Every week, Zikoko spotlights the unfiltered stories of women navigating life, love, identity and everything in between.
What She Said will give women the mic to speak freely, honestly and openly, without shame, about sex, politics, family, survival, and everything else life throws our way.
The subject of today’s #WhatSheSaid is Imoteda Aladekomo, a 40-year-old Lagos-based entrepreneur. She talks about choosing single motherhood at 20, getting kicked out of home for stopping church, reinventing herself from makeup artist to chef, and creating a life around the work, people and pleasures she loves.
Can you tell me about yourself?
I’m Chef Imoteda, a Le Cordon Bleu-trained chef, culinary consultant, and restaurateur, among other things.
My parents named me Adetomi, but it was too damn common a name. One day in secondary school, I flipped it and realised “Imoteda” also means something in Yoruba: “Knowledge of mankind/the people.” It sounded deep to young me, so I started telling everyone that was my name.
You’ve made quite a name for yourself in the culinary world. How do you feel about it all?
When I woke up on the morning of my 40th birthday through to my birthday lunch this year, I kept thinking, “This is comfortable. I feel very at peace, very at ease.” And I was very happy about that. I’ve built a life I’m comfortable in.
What does “comfortable” look like for you?
Being able to get up and do what I want. I’m not a huge travel or designer-buying person. I’m not an adventure junkie, so my life may seem boring, but it’s being able to have a life that’s boring in my way.
I can afford everything I need on a day-to-day basis. I have a great group of friends, a decent number of people I can call on if I ever need anything. I wake up every day and can say, “What do I want to do today?” Then, I do exactly what I want to do that day. It’s a little bit insane to have that much control over my life.
Do you ever think your life could have turned out differently?
Oh, my life could have gone in a million different directions.
I was supposed to get married quite young. Thank God that didn’t happen. I would have had a very miserable life if it had.
Oh, please tell me about that
It’s the usual. I got pregnant early. At exactly 20 years old, actually. I was going to marry the father of my child. He turned out to be abusive, so I didn’t do that. I chose to be a single mum over marrying him; best decision of my life.
He’s six months younger than I am. So, we were both young and dumb. My mum said, “You’re already pregnant. The worst has already happened. Don’t compound it by making it even worse.” Before I decided not to marry him, I wondered why she was saying this. Afterwards, I was like, “You know what? Shout-out to you, Mum. You knew what you were talking about.”
When did you realise he was abusive?
While I was pregnant. I actually remember the day I started planning my exit. I’d fallen, and I remember thinking, “Yeah, I gotta go. This cannot be my life for the rest of my life.”
I even posted about it on X.
During pregnancy, when you’re ill, once a woman is vulnerable, the chances of domestic abuse ramp up. Because you’re somewhat dependent on someone for your well-being, you start to really see the cracks. We would argue a lot. Before I got pregnant, we were fine, but after, things started happening.
What was the first thing you remember happening?
I remember we were talking about teaching our baby French versus Spanish.
I’ve never liked French. Even though everybody says it’s the language of love, to me it’s very guttural. I’d said I wanted our child to learn Spanish because I love Spanish. And he went on about how I’m so stupid, why would I want her to speak Spanish as opposed to French, when French is a more universal language.
I remember sitting there like, “I know this guy didn’t just call me stupid because I said I prefer Spanish to French. From where to where?” I was like, “Hmm, okay. I’m going to put a pin in that and think about it later.”
And then, it became a constant in our conversations. I’d have an opinion on something, and he’d immediately want to call it stupid or silly or frivolous. I was like, “Okay, yeah, all right. Pack it up. Pack it up. Pack it up. This can’t be my life.”
What was life like after leaving him?
My parents really supported my daughter and me so we could live a decent life. They had plenty of say in the way she was raised. But there were a lot of decisions I made that disappointed my dad.
I pulled my daughter out of the school he wanted her to attend because I didn’t like the way they treated her, and he got really upset about that.
I can imagine
Another thing that disappointed him was when I stopped going to church.
We got into a fight, and he kicked me out of the house for that. I was in my late 20s by then. I’m completely irreligious now, but my mum’s a reverend, so I do go to church occasionally to support her. She’s a chaplain of a Methodist church, and I’m very proud of her. I like calling her “Reverend”.
My dad is very involved in the church, too. He’s quite religious.
Did the church treat you differently because you were a young single mum?
I feel like there’s always supposed to be a dramatic reason somebody deviates from the church, but there really wasn’t one for me. Church was actually fine. When I got pregnant, my dad gave a testimony. When the father of a child comes up in front of the entire church and says, “Thank God for my child’s pregnancy,” you’re not coming to tell the child nonsense.
And my dad isn’t someone people generally want to mess with. When he did that, it let everybody know, “This thing has happened o, but don’t get it twisted. This is still my child.”
Even though he did later kick you out for this same church… that was so cool!
Haha. I love that he did that.
My parents covered me a lot with friends and family, too. One of my uncles called me on the phone one time and was like, “You know, if your parents won’t tell you that they’re ashamed of you, I’ll tell you for them.”
I told my mum, and she was so upset. She said, “First of all, what’s his business? Secondly, does he think I don’t have a mouth? Who is he to tell you that we’re ashamed of you?”
I’ll forever be thankful to my parents because they set the tone for how people should treat me within the family. It didn’t really translate to outside the family, but at least within, I was covered.
What was it like outside the family?
Nigerians treat becoming a single mum like the worst thing in the world. It’s unfortunate, very cliché, but very true.
There was a lot of “You’ve ruined your life”. Even my friends said it when I was pregnant. I remember one ex of mine really wanted me to get an abortion. And I was just like, “You’re not even the father of the child. Why is it doing you?”
What would surprise that Imoteda most about her life now, at 40?
I’d be surprised that I wasn’t still a makeup artist. That would shock 20-year-old me!
I used to be a proper makeup artist. I had big plans of opening my own studio, makeup line and all these other things. I used to do film, television, blood and guts, all that kind of stuff. It’s kind of crazy that I no longer do that at all. I rarely even wear makeup nowadays.
Why did you stop?
I just fell in love with cooking a little bit more.
I think one of the greatest pleasures of growing older is you see so many versions of your life come and go. Even as recently as last year, I was working at a restaurant I really loved and thought I’d be at for a long time. Then all of that scattered, and I was super heartbroken.
What did you do?
I opened my own restaurant.
I was already in the process of building Fired and Iced when I had to leave the restaurant I worked at. The plan had always been to manage Fired and Iced alongside the other restaurant. Suddenly, Fired and Iced went from this thing I was building in my spare time, that I could take my time with, to something that needed to be up and running right away because I had nothing else going on at the time.
Obviously, that put a lot of pressure on me to make it work very quickly.
What was the hardest part?
The major hit I took was financial. I lived on location at the other restaurant, and my daughter had a room in my brother’s house, so I didn’t have to pay rent. Which was great because who wants to pay rent in Lagos? I also had a salary, which was great because, you know, a little money in my pocket.
I went from having a regular income to not having any money. And I’ve never been a savings babe, so I was waiting for this thing I was building to come up and make me money.
I also had to find a place to live in three weeks, which, if you know Lagos, is almost impossible. But I found a lovely affordable four-bedroom by sheer luck, and moved in with my daughter right in time to be evicted from the restaurant.
After all that financial uncertainty, when did you finally start feeling secure again?
I’ve felt the most financially independent on my 40th birthday.
I put together two birthday parties. I paid for everything on my own. Nobody from my family gave me money. I didn’t ask anybody for money. I wasn’t really carrying anyone but my sister along with me on the plans. I just told everybody else, “Be here at this time. Be here at that time.”
And it was big.
Jesus, parties are expensive! You do not want to know how much I spent. I was going to do a reel where I broke down the cost, and then I said, “If I put this thing online, people will come and rob me.” In fact, as we’re on this call, I just paid off the balance to somebody who did some printing.
Must’ve felt bittersweet
Well…
I bloomed a little later in life. I know people my age who’ve been paying their siblings’ school fees for years and all that kind of stuff. But even when I was on my own, my family still supported me for a long time. If we’re having a family dinner and I mention, “Oh, I have to pay rent,” my dad would send me some money, or my brothers would help. My sister and I basically share a bank account.
But when my daughter recently started college, people contributed what they could, but I paid the tuition and rent. I took care of almost everything. I was very happy that I could do that, that I had the finances to. More and more lately, I’ve felt in control of my life and finances in a way that, God forbid, if anything happened to everybody around me, I know I could still stand on my own.
You’ve made a living doing things you genuinely enjoy. Have people always taken that seriously?
Not always. People assumed that because I was a makeup artist, I was probably this uneducated, down-on-her-luck babe who couldn’t do anything else. I still get that as a chef.
But choices don’t exist in isolation, and you can’t constantly make them based on how you’ll be perceived. Let them drag me on X, but my feminism is about having the choice to do the things I want to do when I want to do them. It’s not about fulfilling a particular role. I’m not a girlboss or a mother or anything but whatever I want to be that day when I wake up.
What does that freedom to choose look like in real life?
I’ve always loved working with my hands, so I always knew that the things I’d do in life would involve that. During the COVID-19 lockdown. I could no longer buy fancy imported candles, and I wanted fancy imported candles. So I started making candles for myself at home and eventually gifting some to friends who were like, “Oh, we would pay good money for this.”
Then I started selling them.
Just like that?
Yes. And that has turned into Rekoja, my home fragrance brand. It’s the one thing that’s a bit surprising to me.
Another example: I regularly host my circle for house dinners. I don’t do this because I’m a woman. I host because I love having a house full of people. I love cooking for them, even though I know I’ll be stressed and cranky for the first 20 minutes until I get all my drinks in me and become normal again.
When I get tired of hosting, I simply stop.
And your people respect that
Sometimes, I’ll have friends over and, at some point, just announce, “I’m in my room. Bye.” I’m not kicking anybody out of my house, but I want to be in bed, so I’m going to bed.
One day, I messaged my friend group and said, “I want a meat night. I just want us to be eating meat.” So I made sausages, lamb chops and duck breasts, everybody brought something, and we had this table full of meat. While I was cooking, one of my friends stood at the kitchen door because she knows I hate having people in my space when I cook but she likes watching me cook. I said, “As long as you’re not in my space, that’s cool.”
Boundaries
That’s why building community is important. When you’re surrounded by people who aren’t forcing expectations on you, you don’t have to worry about being perceived as just a homemaker. Your people learn you.
And if it’s people outside your community judging you, why do you care? I don’t care what an X user has to say about my life.
Has living life on your own terms always been important to you?
When I die, the one thing I want people to say is that I happened aggressively to life. Life did not happen to me. I happened to life.
It’s so important to me that I’m not just accepting the things life throws at me. I have to be fully, actively in charge of my life and making decisions. Otherwise, why do I have a brain? How am I alive? I think that’s one of the things I struggle with when it comes to religion; the idea that I’m not in charge of my life. But I kind of am. I must be. Who else could be in charge of my life if not me?
I remember one of my exes saying, “You just cannot go with the flow.” And I said, “No. Where are we flowing to? What direction is the river moving? I need to know.” I can ride and die with you, but I want to know why we have to ride and why we have to die. Let me understand.
Speaking of relationships, you almost got married at 20. At 40, is marriage something you still want for yourself?
No.
First, I want to preface this by saying I’m a grown woman, so I do be having companions.
I’m constantly surrounded by people I love and who love me in return. I go on dates, meet people and have had long-term lovers. I have a very full life in every direction. If I don’t want to be alone tonight, I have somebody I can call. If I want to be alone, I can go to my room, close the door and not answer my phone.
Options
Having a full friend group helps even more. My sister is my best friend. My sister and I are one. We constantly have things we’re doing together.
I’m very close to my family. I spent an entire Sunday with them recently when I’d only planned to visit for two hours. Next thing, we’d eaten breakfast, eaten lunch and were ordering dinner. I was like, “Come on, guys. I was just here to visit!” But it was fantastic because I love spending time with them.
But what about love?
Listen, I love love. You can ask my sister. You will not find anybody willing to be stupider for love than me. I love romance and everything that comes with it, but I also know that I wouldn’t die without it. Would I love to never find somebody to spend the rest of my life with? No. But I’m okay with that possibility.
How do you reconcile wanting love with being unwilling to marry?
I’ve been in situations where I’ve had to ask myself, “Am I willing to do this for this person?” And the answer has always been, “No. I love you, but no.” I still care about you deeply, but that’s never going to be a choice for me.
My financial independence makes it easier. I can look at somebody and say, “You’re not fulfilling my emotional needs, so I’m going to leave,” instead of having to think about him before I can buy menstrual pads or food. But there’s another side to it that I don’t think a lot of men appreciate. If you’re in my space, it’s because I want you in my space.
That’s true
A lover recently told me I act like I don’t even care if he’s around or not. I said, “You’re currently in my house. How many people have my address?”
I don’t invite just anybody into my home. The people I allow into my space are people I love deeply. I don’t need you to pay my bills or spoil me. I’m not particularly interested in designer things, so you’re not buying me Prada, Gucci or Louis Vuitton. And because I’m not looking for marriage, there’s no pressure of, “Oh, I’m 40 years old, I must marry now.”
I think more men should be flattered by that.
Your life is already full of family, work and community. What could a romantic partner add to it?
Those can never replace romantic love. There’s an intimacy you get from it that you don’t get from friendships. The casual physicality of being with somebody, the little brushes when you pass each other in the kitchen, lying down together and cuddling. I love cuddling.
I’m not somebody who generally likes people touching me, so I don’t want to replicate that with my friends. It’s a very specific kind of intimacy that comes with being romantically in love with someone.
And orgasms, please.
Orgasms are very important!
And I’m not particularly a self-pleasure person. I like sex with people.
I also like the conversations you have with a romantic partner, the whispering of sweet nothings, lying in bed and just looking at each other with love. I love that stuff.
If marriage isn’t your goal, do you still enter relationships hoping they’ll last forever?
Yes, and I’m very honest about marriage. I have that conversation early.
I’ve had a relationship I genuinely wanted to last forever, but he couldn’t accept that marriage wasn’t something I wanted. It wasn’t a relationship he felt he could take home to his parents, so that ended. Generally, when I’m dating somebody, I ask myself, “If this is the person I’m with forever, would I be happy?” If the answer is yes, fantastic. Let’s go.
When was the last time you had an ordinary moment when you were proud of the life you’ve built?
This is a great question because I actually have a moment.
One Sunday, I had something work-related to attend, and afterwards, I was rushing to a birthday party. I got dressed in a hurry, didn’t even do my makeup, and was taking out my hair in the car because I thought I was late. The party was supposed to start at 7:30 p.m. I got there around 8:10, and nobody was there. Nobody! I was like, “Oh God, Lagos has fooled me again. I’m early.”
African time!
I turned around, went back home, took off my clothes and sat on my bed for a little bit. Then I realised, “Wait, I’m early. I don’t have to rush.”
I lay down and started looking around my room. You know when you spend so much time in a space that you never really look at it? I looked at my wallpaper, my bedside lamp, my curtains, my flowers, even the mess on my floor. And I was like, “Oh my God, this is such a nice room.”
I picked everything myself. I picked my bed and had it made. I chose the mirror, the wallpaper, everything. My room is loud. But it’s a space I’ve created for myself, and it looks like me. You walk in and you’re like, “Yep, this is exactly the kind of room I’d expect you to have.” It looks like me, it feels like me, and it’s as cold as I want it to be.
And I just lay there thinking, “Look at you, Imoteda. You’ve built a life that’s perfect. Your room is perfect.”
Sometimes, I look at myself and think I behave like I’m rich when I’m not, especially with the amount of electricity credit I keep buying. But at that moment, I was just so happy. I realised that in a few minutes, I was going to get up, put my clothes back on, do my makeup and go party all night with my friends on a Sunday, a school night, simply because I could.
Who was going to tell me to go to bed?
It’s the small things
The party wasn’t even the point. I was just lying in my room, looking at this space I’d made for myself, and thinking, “This is my life, and my life is good. This is a great life.”
I’m actually happy thinking about it again because I was so happy at that moment. It made me realise that I’d built this life brick by brick. Of course, I have my loving family, but this wasn’t about them. This was about me.
Why is having a space that’s entirely yours so important?
It’s interesting because my mum actually had a room of her own when we were younger. My parents shared a bedroom, but she also had another room that was supposed to be just for her. Somewhere she could keep her knick-knacks, sew or do whatever she wanted.
Somehow, that room ended up becoming a store. There was a bed in it and everything, but it still became a space for the family. Even the room that was supposed to be hers ended up not being for her.
I think having a room of your own as a woman is actually super important.
And what would you say to someone who thinks choosing yourself is selfish?
I only ever have one answer: I’m in my house. Come and beat me.
You think I’m selfish? Come and beat me in my house. You think I’m making the wrong choices? I’m in my house, and you can’t beat me. Even if it is selfish, I’ve made my choice.
I’m in my house. Come and beat me.
